


9 To 5, Except He Doesn't Quite Make It To 5

by Enclave



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Dyslexia, Dyslexic Shiro (Voltron), Fainting, Fever, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Vomiting, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 10:34:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16239857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enclave/pseuds/Enclave
Summary: Keith gets a migraine at the office. He intends to tough it out, but his boss, Shiro, takes care of him and sends him home early.A few months later, Keith repays the favor.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello yes it is I, a man who writes fanfic to procrastinate on posting fanfic. I have a 30k Stucky college AU WAITING to be posted and I CANNOT think of a title for it so I did this instead! 
> 
> This is gen, but I still feel obligated to disclaim: Dating your boss is ONLY cool and fun in FICTION, not real life. also the title is completely inaccurate, both fics start before 9, I don't know y'all
> 
> ANYWAY, there's nothing commonly triggering about this except v*mit which is very non-graphically described :) enjoy!

"Keith! G'morning!"

Keith looked up from the Excel file he was reformatting at the desk in the waiting area outside Shiro's office. Shiro, as usual, looked far too energetic at this early hour. _I guess that's the drive that makes you the CTO of a major engineering firm at only 27_ , Keith thought. His new boss was relentlessly cheerful and encouraging at all times, including eight in the morning, when he usually showed up at the office as Keith was still trying to kick himself into productivity mode for the day. Keith tried hard to be annoyed by it, but it was kind of endearing.

Shiro elbowed his fancy messenger bag out of the way and came up to  Keith's desk. He was holding two coffee cups and inspected them both before setting one down in front of Keith. "I think that one's yours."

Keith had been working this job for almost two months and he still hadn't gotten used to the fact that his boss insisted on bringing him coffee in the mornings. "That's really supposed to be my job," he muttered even as he picked it up, verified that it did indeed have his name on the side, and took a long drink. He didn't even bother making sure Shiro had remembered to get his mocha non-dairy, anymore. He always did.

Shiro ignored his comment, another thing he always did. "What have I got this morning?"

Keith pulled up his schedule in another window on his desktop and scanned it. "Um, you're meeting with the National Weather Service people at nine, then with the head of the Nautical Tech Group at 10:30..." He ran through the rest of Shiro's meetings. Shiro nodded along, filing away the information.

"Great," he said when Keith finished, "Thanks. I'm going to send you over a few technical reports from different teams I want you to look over and summarize. Will you have time for that today?"

"Of course."

"Anything I can do for you to make your life easier?"

"Mr. Shirogane..."

"Please, call me Shiro." No matter how many times Shiro requested that, Keith wasn't gonna do it outside the comfort of his own head. He was pretty sure Shiro made seven figures, and Keith had a personal, non-negotiable, full-last-name-with-title-only policy for anyone making more than six. Especially if that person was his boss. "I know it's not my job, but if there are any wheels I can grease..."

Keith rolled his eyes. Shiro would never stop trying to out-secretary him. It was like they were in some kind of extended competition to see who could make whose life easiest. "No, I've got everything under control."

"Great. Fantastic. Good work, keep it up." Shiro gave him an honest-to-god thumbs up as he retreated into his office. God, what a dork.

* * *

The next time Shiro saw him was when he was on the way back from the Nautical Tech meeting at almost noon. One of the men in the meeting, a division manager, had spent much of it challenging Shiro's authority and technical expertise. Luckily, Shiro has recently reviewed the technical background of that group's work and had been able to fend off his claims that Shiro didn't know what he was talking about. It was thanks to Keith, really. Keith was technically supposed to be Shiro's secretary, screening his phone calls and scheduling his meetings for him, but in reality, his primary job responsibility was to read for Shiro: to look over all the technical documents Shiro was supposed to know about, read them, summarize them, and repeat the summaries to Shiro. (His pay reflected the fact that he wasn't just a run-of-the-mill secretary--his job required technical expertise almost on par with Shiro's, and Shiro had ensured that his pay and benefits reflected that.)

Shiro was dyslexic, and if their shareholders knew the company's CTO could read at about the level of the average fifth-grader, all hell would have broken loose. He could do his job perfectly well; he just needed a little help with certain tasks. Keith was that help.

At any rate, Shiro had had enough control of the vocabulary and concepts involved in the meeting that he had been able to stand his ground against the division manager. Still, the blatant disrespectful behavior by the manager was troubling, and Shiro was distracted by it as he passed right by Keith's desk. Remembering himself, he backtracked, drawing Keith's attention. "Keith, you really saved my butt in that meeting. Thanks for your help with those submarine documents a few weeks ago. I don't know what I would do without you."

Keith looked up belatedly. "Oh, uh, sure. No problem."

Shiro squinted at him. "Are you okay? You look kinda... off." He couldn't put his finger on it. Was he maybe a little pale? One of his hands rested on the  mouse of his computer, but the other was clenched into a fist on top of the desk. His knuckles were white. "Is there something wrong?"

"No, no, everything's fine."

"You'd tell me if you needed personal leave for some reason, right? You know the policy is--"

"Mr. Shirogane, really, it's fine. I'm fine." Keith smiled tightly and waved Shiro off. "Don't worry about it."

"...Okay," Shiro finally acquiesced. Keith was fantastic at his job, but Shiro knew he was still uncomfortable around him. It was natural; Shiro was his boss, after all. In light of that, he didn't want to press. "Just let me know if you need anything."

"Not your job."

"I know, I know." Shiro disappeared back into his office with a sheepish smile.

* * *

Shiro came back from lunch to find Keith clearly not, in fact, fine.

His chair was pushed way back and he was clutching the edge of the desk with both hands, his head ducked down between his shoulders. "Aw, shit." Shiro should have known something was wrong earlier, but he had let it go. "Keith?"

Keith inhaled sharply before sitting up sluggishly. He pushed the chair back into the desk. "Mr. Shirogane," he said, and he sounded kind of breathless. "What have you got for me?"

Instead of answering, Shiro came up and laid a hand on Keith's forehead. He swore again. "You're really warm. Something's wrong. I'm sending you home for the day. Do you have a ride?"

Keith's face fell. "Shirogane, I..." He winced when he looked up at him, then put a hand over half his face. "I'm fine. I can stay."

"No, you're not. Is it a migraine?"

Keith's eyebrows shot up. "I..."

The door to the waiting room clicked open, and both of their heads whipped around. It was Allura, one of members of the Board of Trustees, here for an afternoon meeting with Shiro. She was slightly early. "Shiro!" she said brightly. "Are you ready for me?"

Shiro hesitated, glancing between Keith and Allura. "I... actually, I need to talk to my secretary for a moment. Come back to my office, Keith. Allura, I'll let you know when I'm ready for you."

"Wait, no," Keith protested.

"That's fine," Allura said, "I'll wait out here."

"You can't--Shiro, you have _work_ \--" Keith was saying, but Shiro was already easing him out of the chair. He didn't miss the way Keith's breath caught when he stood, or how he had to steady himself on the desk as he got to his feet. "You have a meeting. You shouldn't keep Allura waiting. I'll drive myself home if you don't want me here."

"You're not driving like this. I'm just going to make sure you have a safe ride and keep an eye on you until it comes," Shiro said quietly so Allura wouldn't overhear. "Allura can wait. You're my top priority right now."

He led Keith back to his office, half-supporting him with a hand on his shoulder, and shut the door behind him. He flipped the overhead lights off. It was still bright enough to see from the floor-to-ceiling windows behind his desk, providing a good view of the city. The office was almost embarrassingly swanky, with a thick rug, tall mahogany bookshelves that were purely for show, and an eclectic combination of office chairs and armchairs that looked like they belonged in someone's living room. "Here, sit down." Shiro pushed Keith into one of the latter, then caught his shoulder with alarm as he collapsed forward over his knees. "Hey, what's wrong? Are you dizzy? Do you feel like you're going to pass out?"

"I don't feel so great," Keith said, as though he was just now noticing.

"Yeah, I noticed. It is a migraine, right? Do you get them often?"

He nodded miserably. "Not... that often. Every... once every few months."

"Okay, hold tight. I'll take care of this, don't worry." He crossed the room and got a bottle of cold water out of the mini-fridge, stocked with a variety of hard and soft drinks for the various high-level executives who met with Shiro here. Then he dug through his desk for painkillers. "Do you usually take something stronger than ibuprofen?"

"Ib'profen's fine."

He tapped out two pills and held them in one hand. Keith hadn't moved; he was breathing carefully, his head between his knees and his arms up protecting his face. Shiro gently uncurled one of his hands and pressed the pills into it. Without opening his eyes, before Shiro could stop him, he swallowed them dry. Shiro pressed the water bottle into his hand so he could wash them down. Then he kicked the trash can from his desk closer. "Hey, I put the trash can right by you, right? If you feel sick..."

"I won't..." Keith swallowed hard, belying his words. "I'm not gonna..."

"It's just in case. Do you have someone I can call to pick you up?"

"Sh'ro, I really don't have to--"

"If you're calling me by that name, you're _really_ not in your right mind," Shiro cut him off. "You know you have unlimited sick leave, right? This is what that's for."

"But I'm not s'posed to actually use it!"

"Yes, you are. That's why I gave it to you."

"But it's only my seventh week here..."

"Don't be ridiculous. It's not like you can delay being sick 'til it's convenient. Who can I call to get you? Or should I give you a ride home?"

Keith sat up a little, pressing his forehead hard into one hand. "I'll call... Lance, I guess."

"Here, give me his number. I'll let him know what's going on."

"I can call him."

"You just relax."

Keith finally acquiesced and recited a number to Shiro. "And he's your...?" Shiro prompted.

"Housemate."

Shiro called the number. A phone rang a few times before a tenor voice answered, _"Hey, Keith, you bad boy, aren't you supposed to be at work?"_

"Hi, is this Lance?" Shiro asked. "This is Takashi Shirogane, Keith's boss."

_"Oh, shit. I didn't mean, uh, I thought, obviously, that..."_

"Don't worry about it. Can I ask a favor of you? Keith is sick and he-- Aw, crap. Hang on." Shiro cut off as there was the unmistakable sound of a harsh gag. He pushed the trash can under Keith just as he threw up the pills and mouthful of water he had managed to ingest earlier. He managed to choke out an apology between heaves. "No, no, it's alright. Get it up..." Wary of crossing professional boundaries, Shiro nevertheless placed a hand on Keith's shoulder, rubbing it with his thumb. Keith took a fistful of the fabric of Shiro's sleeve as he continued to cough up nothing more than saliva and water.

_"Oh jeez, is he puking?"_ Lance was saying nervously. _"You know he's not hungover, right? He'd never come to work hungover. He barely drinks at all. He--"_

"Don't worry," Shiro said, returning his attention to the phone in the hand Keith hadn't immobilized. "He's not in any trouble. I just need someone to drive him home. Can you come pick him up?"

_"Yep, sure,"_ Lance said. _"I can be there in ten minutes."_

"Great. Just pull up around the front of the building, I'll have someone let you up. Thanks, Lance."

_"No problem, Keith's Boss."_

Shiro hung up. Keith had let go of Shiro's sleeve and was going to wipe his mouth on the back of his hand. "No, don't do that. I'll get you some paper towels. Sit tight."

He went back out into the waiting room, where Allura was scrolling through her phone in one of the chairs, her legs kicked up casually over the arm. Shiro had almost forgotten that she was here. She looked up inquisitively as he came out. "I'm so sorry--this is unprofessional, but I need a few more minutes. My secretary has taken ill and I--"

"Oh, Keith's sick?" She must have learned his name; she swung by Shiro's office fairly often as she often had strong opinions on their technological direction and wanted to submit her opinion for his consideration. "He's sweet; you should hold onto that one."

"I know," Shiro said, blushing. "Honestly, I don't know what I'd do without him."

"Perish, I imagine," she teased him. "Take all the time you need. I don't have any other meetings until three."

"Thanks so much, Ms. Altea. And I apologize again for the inconvenience."

"It's no trouble."

Shiro went down the hall to the bathroom, wet a few paper towels, and brought them back to his office. Keith was still sitting up in the chair, his head in his hands. "Here, you can clean yourself up a little." He handed over the paper towels and waited while Keith wiped his face and hands, then gave him the bottle of water. "Rinse your mouth out." It was a testament to how bad he was feeling that Keith did so without protest.

"Lance said it was going to take him ten minutes to get here. You can stay here until then. Want to move over to the couch so you can lie down?"

Keith hesitated, then nodded minutely. Shiro helped him up. He had a worrying thousand-yard stare and swayed dangerously when he stood, grabbing onto Shiro's shoulder for balance. Shiro took Keith's upper arm to steady him, trying not to touch him too much as he stumbled over to the couch, squinting against the light from the window. He collapsed onto it. "Put your feet up," Shiro encouraged him.

"It really hurts," Keith said pathetically.

"Do you want to try painkillers again? I think you threw up the ones I gave you earlier."

"Don't remind me," he mumbled. "And no, thanks. Think it's too late for that."

"Poor thing," Shiro murmured. "Just relax. Lance should be here soon."

* * *

"Hey, Keith, I'm here to -- Keith. Keith. Jesus, is he asleep?"

"Yeah." That was Shiro's voice, low and apologetic. "Think he wore himself out trying to power through it."

"Yeah, I fuckin' _bet_ he did. Come on, buddy, time to wake up. We're going home."

"Lance?" Keith mumbled. The whole situation didn't make sense. Where was he? Why were Lance and Shiro in the same room together? Why had he been asleep, and why couldn't he see anything when he opened his eyes? Wait, that last part... He pushed himself upright on the couch, wincing as that sent a fresh wave of pounding through his left eye and the left side of his head. Right. Migraine. At the office. He groaned in discomfort as he tried to rouse himself. He needed to... to...

"Yep, it's Lance. Jeez, you're out of it." A second later, Lance's hands were under Keith's arms. Keith allowed him to lift him, then leaned against Lance. His head was spinning; he was so dizzy he could barely stay upright. He realized he was in Shiro's office, which was a Horrible Very Bad Situation, and he hoped Lance led him out of there ASAP, but he was too disoriented and out of it to do much about it.

"C'n we go home?" he managed to mumble to Lance. "I feel kinda..." _nauseous_ , but he didn't want to say that.

"Yeah, buddy, we're going. Thanks for calling me, Shiro! Maybe we can get drinks sometime." Was Lance seriously hitting on Keith's fucking boss? No, what was Keith thinking, of course he was. Lance hit on anything and everything that moved.

"No problem. Take care of him, alright? Don't let him come back in until he's better."

"Oh, don't worry, he'll be fine tomorrow. Just needs to sleep it off. See ya!" Finally they were moving. Keith didn't even open his eyes, just let Lance lead him out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Keith's head snapped up from the accounting he had been working on as Shiro, looking uncharacteristically tired and pale, set Keith's morning coffee down on the counter.

"Thanks, Shiro," he said suspiciously, taking it. He had finally caved and started calling Shiro by his nickname after about three months of constant hassling. He barely even thought about it anymore. "What are you doing here so early? It's only a little after seven." Shiro normally got to the office around eight, after Keith had had some time to review his schedule for the day and make last-minute adjustments.

"Didn't finish reviewing for the quarterly board meeting last night," Shiro answered sheepishly, taking a long draw on his own coffee--black and iced, both unusual for him.

"Did you eat before you got here?"

"No, I didn't have time. The meeting's at eight."

"Want me to grab you something?" Keith was pretty sure that that much coffee on an empty stomach wasn't going to do Shiro any favors, even if Shiro  _ was _ weirdly immune to caffeine.

"Nah, I brought a granola bar to eat while I go over everything. But thank you for the offer."

Shiro disappeared into his office before Keith could protest. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He wasn't sure if it was a good idea for Shiro to go to the board meeting without eating something more substantial first, since they tended to drag on and Shiro was a big guy who needed a ton of calories, but it wasn't really his place to say anything, so he let it go.

* * *

Shiro forgot about the granola bar.

He didn't realize it until about halfway through the board meeting, when Allura had to elbow him--none too gently--to get him to answer a question from one of the board members. He took a sharp breath as he jerked back to full alertness, then blushed deeply, asking the other member politely to repeat the question. He was starving, and it was starting to get to him. Besides that, he felt kind of... weird. Off. Almost weak. He really wanted to go back to his office and lie down, but the meeting probably wouldn't be over for another few hours while the members debated about finances.

He downed another half-cup of black coffee as she re-explained what she had been asking him. His fingers felt weird around the cup, kind of numb and tingly, which made it hard to hold on. He wrapped his hands around it more firmly, thinking that maybe he felt so weird because the room was unusually chilly. Keith should have turned on the heat for the day by now--he never forgot--but maybe today was an exception. He'd ask him about it when the meeting was over.

He managed to come up with a coherent answer to her question, only to lose the train of the conversation again a few minutes later, prompting another hard elbow from Allura. His head felt fuzzy, and he couldn't seem to focus on anything. It was past eleven by the time the meeting finally finished up; by the end, Shiro was holding onto alertness by the skin of his teeth. He waited as the other board members filed out of the room, not wanting to stand, and possibly stumble, in front of an audience. Allura left last, teasingly admonishing him to take a nap on her way out the door. Shiro laughed and made some noncommittal noises as she left.

Finally alone, he switched off the projector and hit the button to retract the corresponding screen, then rose to go ask Keith if the heat was on. He felt really strange--his stomach felt weird, like he was maybe a little nauseous, and he was hit by a headrush as he went for the door. He opened it, trying to breathe through the dizziness, and stepped out into the lobby where Keith was sitting behind his desk. Alarmingly, the headrush wasn't going away. Instead, the floating sensation and static in his vision got worse quite rapidly, until Shiro could barely see.

He stumbled over to Keith's desk, catching the edge of it with both hands. "Shiro?!" Keith said, jumping up.

"I think I..." Shiro slurred. It was hard to talk; his lips were going numb. Hard to keep his balance, too, now that he couldn't see which way was up. He heard Keith coming around the side of the desk, but the sound was oddly muffled, like he was underwater. He wanted to tell Keith he was going to pass out, but he was way too far gone to get the words out. He went to his knees gracelessly, and he was out completely before he even hit the floor.

* * *

"Shiro? Shiro, can you hear me?"

Shiro was staring up at the face of a beautiful man. Silky, layered black hair framed a sharp chin and bright blue--almost violet--eyes...

Oh. Keith. That was Keith. Which meant-- He made a strangled sound of dismay with what little breath he could get in. He was at the office... on the floor. He had no idea what was going on, but there was no way this was a good situation.

He was horribly disoriented and tried to lift his head to look around, but that only increased how dizzy and nauseous he felt. He let his head drop back, closing his eyes and groaning. Someone--Keith--had slipped a hand between his head and the floor before he could knock his skull against the tiles; he set Shiro down gently. 

"Here--this might help." Hands propped his knees upright. He let them fall against Keith's desk. It didn't make much of a difference, at least not immediately. Shiro swallowed hard, taking in shallow breaths through his mouth. It felt like he couldn't get enough oxygen--his extremities were tingling and numb, and his head wouldn't stop spinning.

He was also freezing cold.  He managed to roll over onto his side and curl up a little. That was a bit better; it took some of the pressure off his chest and made it easier to breathe. A moment later something warm settled over the stump of his right arm. His next labored breath smelled like Keith--it was his jacket. "You're alright," Keith was saying. "Just take your time and let me know when I can start yelling at you for being an idiot."

"Nngh...

"Hang on." Keith disappeared for a minute, leaving Shiro to clutch his jacket around him and try to gather his wits and figure out what in the world was going on. What the hell was he doing on the floor of--ah. Yes. The board meeting. Had he fainted? Had anyone seen it happen?

Keith returned, cracking open a glass bottle of juice from the fridge in Shiro's office. Thank god Shiro had thought to give him a key a few weeks back.

"Feel like you're okay to sit up?" Keith asked, setting down the bottle.

"...Not really," Shiro said.

"Okay. Take it easy. Try to take slower breaths. You're kinda hyperventilating."

He tried to slow down a little. His chest felt heavy; it was hard to breathe, but the weight was slowly easing up. "Did any of them... see that happen?"

"Luckily for you, no. Allura had just left when you collapsed. I locked the door to the hallway so nobody can come in. Are you...?" Keith's hand approached and he pressed the inside of his wrist against Shiro's forehead. Shiro wanted to lean into the touch, but he felt increasingly nauseous and thought moving would probably be a bad idea. "Yeah, you feel pretty warm. I think you're coming down with something. You're done for the day, at any rate."

"Fuuuuuck," Shiro groaned, not even bothering to protest. Keith huffed out a breath of laughter; Shiro rarely cursed in front of him. "Help me up," he demanded a moment later. He still felt physically awful, but he was becoming a bit more clear-headed--enough to be embarrassed about lying on the office floor.

Keith revealed himself to be surprisingly strong, levering Shiro upright without too much of a struggle and propping him against the side of the desk. A fresh wave of dizziness came over him. He felt sweat break out on his forehead and leaned back heavily, closing his eyes again. He wasn't going to pass out again...

"Shiro? Are you good? You look pale..."

"Fine," he said. His voice was breathy and weak. He swallowed forcibly. "Can I have a drink?" Maybe that would help with the nausea.

"Sure, here." Keith handed the bottle over. Shiro took a sip, then a few big gulps when the sweetness hit his tongue. He may be getting sick as well, but his blood sugar was probably also low. The cool drink felt like heaven going down his throat.

He set the bottle down. "You look a little better, I guess," Keith said dubiously. "What the hell were you thinking, not eating anything all morning even though you were sick?"

"I didn't realize!" Shiro protested.

"You're telling me you didn't feel  _ at all _ weird by the end of that meeting? Why didn't you come out here and ask me to get you something? That's what I'm there for." Keith sounded offended that Shiro hadn't come to him.

"I don't know. I guess I wasn't thinking all that clearly," Shiro said sheepishly. "I'm sorry I worried you. I'm really okay. I think I just need to get some rest."

"It's okay. Just... tell me next time. Can I call you a cab to take you home?"

"Can you get my cell phone from my office? I have Uber," Shiro said. It was free, a company perk.

"Sure, hang on."

Keith left again. Shiro closed his eyes and tried to breathe steadily. His stomach was feeling kind of weird again. Maybe drinking that much juice in one go hadn't been a good idea. He took deep breaths through his nose, attempting to settle his stomach, but it wasn't helping.

He returned, holding up the phone. "Want me to put in your password, or do you want to do it?"

"Actually... I..." Shiro inhaled shakily. "Can you get me a trash can or something? I kinda..."

Keith's eyes widened and he darted behind his desk to get the wastebasket, but before he could bring it back, Shiro coughed and the juice came back up down his front. He shuddered and managed to turn to the side before retching again, this time bringing up little more than spit. "Oh... oh god..." he moaned.

"It's okay," Keith said, steady as ever. "I'll get the janitor. I'm gonna put a note on the door and then drive you  home. Come on. I'll stay late to make up for it."

"Keith... I feel awful," he whined, giving up completely on his composure.

"I know, big guy. Come on. Let's get you up. We're going home."

**Author's Note:**

> yes okay I may be a LITTLE fixated on the idea of Keith having migraines


End file.
